


July

by pweeyuh



Category: No Fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2020-07-12 15:27:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19948474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pweeyuh/pseuds/pweeyuh





	July

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Gaby](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gaby/gifts).



There are certain days when the light seems like it escaped from heaven. It dances gaily along the treeline, filtering through curtains and squeezing through Venetian blinds before emerging triumphantly into bedrooms to wake the inhabitants. Mornings in this light are glorious.

Yukio was shocked to see this light—he didn’t know it could exist outside of Shintō, let alone in such a dreary place as Berlin. He propped himself up on his elbow and extended his hand toward the window, watching the light dance across his fingers, and he laughed.

He dressed hastily, ate a meager breakfast of toast and a fried egg (as he always did), and kicked his shoes onto his feat as he ran out the door. He thought somehow if he ran fast enough, he could make time go faster, and free up an extra hour or two to enjoy the day. Halfway down the street, he realised what a mess he looked, so he crouched under the awning of a cheese shop to tie his shoes; pull his suspenders up from where they hung at his waist, brushing his knees; and put on and button his jacket. As much as he insisted on wearing Western clothes, he hated them. They were too constricting, and they made him sweat far too much. About two minutes after putting on his coat, he took it off, and rolled up his shirtsleeves. He continued his walk, huffing and puffing and sweating, with his coat slung over his shoulder. There was a terrible sweat-stain from where the garment was touching his back.

Classes were always boring, but today time seemed to be extra slow. The windows in that particular lecture hall were situated behind the seats to give light to the lecturer, which meant that it was impossible for any Japanese students to distract themselves by the incredible quality of the light. Yukio instead watched the dust in the air, and how it caught the light in rays that floated towards the professor’s impressive moustache.

When the lecture was over, Yukio nearly jumped with joy. He collected his things much faster than his peers, and didn’t indulge their conversation, either—he was first out the door. Once he was off the grounds, he broke into a run once again, and ran all the way to the butcher’s some twelve blocks away, nearly bumping into several ladies holding towers of boxes from this or that cobbler to tailor or department store.

The butcher was a dark place, run by an old man with a name Yukio couldn’t pronounce. But Gilbert Dietrich, who had lived in Berlin for nearly ten years, worked there, and the two were best friends.

“Gilbert,” Yukio panted as he entered the place. He put his hands on his knees, his backside against the doorframe, and caught his breath.

“I assume you don’t need any meat,” his friend from Dresden said, smiling that smile he always did as if he had one up on Yukio.

“Let’s leave the city,” he croaked. Gilbert gave him a glass of water, which Yukio gulped down gratefully.

“Where?”

“I don’t know. The countryside. Take me in that automobile you’re so proud of.”

“Her  _ name _ ,” he said very seriously, his eyebrows knitting together, “is  _ Laura _ .”

Yukio looked at him and laughed.

“Come on. Take me to the countryside.”

Gilbert sighed, and disappeared behind the door. Yukio could hear him ascend the stairs. There was some muffled conversation, then the sound of his friend’s rapid descent.

“The Armenian gave me the rest of the day off,” he grinned. Gilbert threw off his apron, took two saucisson from the counter, and a loaf of bread from the shelf.

“Are you allowed to do that?” Yukio asked, and his friend shrugged. They laughed.

They had to take a tram to where Laura was parked, and several times they had to shoo devillish children trying to steal their sausages and bread.

Laura was a beautiful car. She was a black convertible, with oxblood leather seats. Gilbert rarely drove her; she was his pride and joy.

“Alright, old girl,” Gilbert cooed, patting the dashboard lovingly. “We’re going on an adventure.”

The pair drove for around two hours until they were satisfied, and stopped the car on the edge of the road, just far enough that Laura was not susceptible to damage. They were on the edge of a hill that sloped down to a thicket of trees. All down the hill were wildflowers up to their mid-shins. Instinctively, Yukio kicked off his shoes and socks, placed them gently on the floor of the car, then ran down the hill, hollering in pure joy. For a moment, Gilbert looked at him like he was a madman, then did the same. They traversed around the field together, laughing and shouting and feeling the grass and flowers beneath their toes.

After running around in wide circles for maybe ten minutes, Yukio ran into the thicket of trees, hooting once more when he found that the trees were hiding a river. He ripped off his suspenders, his shirt, and his pants, then entered the water. The cold of the water shocked him initially, and a shiver went up his spine. Once he got used to the temperature, he laughed and splashed around until his friend poked his head into the trees.

“How does it feel?” Gilbert called, and Yukio said it was just fine. Gilbert didnt take the same care to undress as his friend did, though, and jumped into the water with all his clothes on. Yukio, in some sort of shocked euphoria, let out something like a scream, then ducked underwater, swimming around a bit in the pool the river had formed many years ago. He managed to open his eyes just long enough to watch a little fish swim past his nose. The two had kicked up a lot of silt from the riverbed, and that light, that beautiful light—already filtered through the trees—was visible in those same rays underwater. He let out a laugh which sent bubbles to the surface and made Gilbert think he was drowning, so the moment of beauty that Yukio had all to himself was promptly ended as he was grabbed by the shoulders and pulled up into the air. Gilbert, prepared to save his friend’s life, was shocked and maybe even a little disappointed when Yukio started laughing again.

“You scared me,” he said in the same uncertain tone. Yukio continued to laugh.

Once the wet clothes started to weigh him down, Gilbert undressed, and hung his sopping wet clothes on a tree branch that hung low over the riverbank. Gilbert stood waist-deep in the water, while Yukio watched.

“That was stupid,” he said. Gilbert nodded.

Yukio swam past him, laughing at the spectacle of his nakedness, then emerged from the water. He hung up his wet underwear next to Gilbert’s things, then used his undershirt to dry himself off and redressed (sans undergarments). He sat on a log, and they engaged in light conversation, every so often remembering that Gilbert was naked and bursting into laughter.

Gilbert followed him after an hour, and used his friend’s now-damp shirt as a towel with some complaint from the latter. He, too, redressed, although his clothes were still quite damp.

They left the riverbank, and returned to the field of wildflowers, seating themselves halfway up the hill. Gilbert lay on his back, hoping to dry himself off in shifts. Yukio watched as puffy clouds passed them overhead. Suddenly, all the worries of the mortal world melted into the blue of the sky, and Yukio stepped outside of himself. Nothing existed anymore. Not Shintō, not Berlin, not Laura, not Gilbert, not even himself. Just the sun and sky. He drifted upwards, and swam in its light for five minutes, only returning to his body in an instant when Gilbert swallowed a bug and started coughing.

“You interrupted me,” Yukio said grumpily, and put his hand on his chest, turning his head to look at the Teuton.

“Oh,” Gilbert said, a bit red in the face, “sorry.”

Yukio sat up, his eyebrows knitted together.

“It’s ruined now,” he said.

“What’s ruined?”

“Forget it.”

Gilbert sat up, his face twisted into a look of sincere apology. He searched his mind for something to make Yukio feel better.

“Shall I make you a daisy chain?” he decided upon. Yukio’s eyes lit up.

“Yes. But you have to teach me how.”


End file.
